A Journey of Becoming

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A Fleeting Nostalgia

Prophecy self-fulfilling do fearful thoughts bring.Yet each one is a raindrop adrift in the stormOf my shattered perceptions of times that have passed.Now is no safe umbrella. In starkest contrastTo my dreams of inclusion, this whetted lifeform,In subversive containment, must feel everything.

Who is the best advisor for one who’s becomeSurreptitiously sober and too circumspect?There are some limitations that clearly precludeHelping someone with such a piss poor attitude.Those who’d try should indeed have their own systems checked.It’s impossible to cheer up someone who’s glum.

I must be my own mentor at times when I’m down.No one else is more qualified. I could escapeThrough neurotic nostalgia for much tamer timesIn a world less attentive to most subtle crimesOf a cognitive nature. I’ll get back in shapeBy embracing my storm even though I may drown.